


puppy play

by mybelovedcheshire



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Violence, Dirty Talk, M/M, Puppy Play, Roughness, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybelovedcheshire/pseuds/mybelovedcheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of <a href="http://mbcwriting.tumblr.com/tagged/v:-miscest">a long-running series</a> I've apparently only been posting on Tumblr, in which Enjolras and Cosette are twins, and Grantaire is their old brother. </p><p>Grantaire moved out of their parents' house, and instead of going home during school holidays, Enjolras goes to stay with him. It's a hell of a lot easier to try out new kinks without their parents or their sister just down the hall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	puppy play

“Don’t worry about it, Ma. I gave Enjolras my bed. I’m a good host.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. Grantaire’s hand was clamped tightly over his mouth.

“Nah, he’s being a little ass, but what can you do? It’s what he was born to do.”

Enjolras sloppily licked his brother’s palm.

Grantaire smacked him.

“Just Enjolras dropping a cup. Gotta go, Ma. Gonna have to beat him up for that.”

Without waiting for so much as an ‘Okay!’ from his mother, Grantaire hung up. He chucked his phone across the room, into a pile of jeans and flannel.

“You dick—” Enjolras started. But Grantaire grabbed him by the throat and flipped them both over, pinning him down in bed. His bare thighs straddled Enjolras’s hips and he leaned in, getting close enough to smell the flowery soap Enjolras had stolen from Cosette on his skin.

“Shhh,” Grantaire murmured, squeezing just enough to make Enjolras feel a little dizzy. “Or I’ll reconsider letting you sleep in my bed, little brother.”

Enjolras swallowed under his hand, smirking at the way Grantaire’s chest hitched as he felt his little brother move.

“I should whip you,” Grantaire threatened quietly. “I told you not to say anything when I picked up the phone.”

It was hard to hide the way his heartbeat quickened. Enjolras breathed out through his nose slowly. Grantaire pushed him deeper into the bed.

“You want me to,” he practically hissed. “Do you want me to ride you, too? Whip you and ride you while you’re still sore?”

Enjolras closed his eyes. He wanted it. Every cell in his body wanted it. And Grantaire hadn’t been aware of it before, Enjolras’s hard cock pressing up between his legs made it abundantly clear.

Grantaire turned Enjolras’s head to the side, bending down to kiss his neck and murmur in his ear. “My slutty baby brother. So fucking hungry for cock all the god damn time. If only Mother Dearest knew what I make you do to stay in this bed.”

Enjolras rocked his hips up.

Grantaire sat up and backhanded him again.

Under him, Enjolras made the sweetest moan.

Grantaire rolled off him, standing up as he slid out of bed. “Get on the floor,” he commanded.

Enjolras hurried to obey him. They were both completely naked — their clothes littered the floor around him. Grantaire’s cock had been in his mouth when their mother called, but apparently getting sucked off while on the phone wasn’t something Grantaire could handle. Enjolras sank to his knees.

Grantaire wrapped his hand around his own erection, pumping slowly as he moved towards his closet. He hadn’t forgotten where he and Enjolras had left off, and he had no intentions of stopping.

He just wanted to make it a little bit better.

He reached into the back, groping around in the dark. His fingers brushed against leather, and he grinned wickedly.

He didn’t have much money — their parents did, and Cosette was always sneakily buying him shit she knew he needed, but he didn’t take anything from anyone if he could help it. He had a job. It was a shit job, but it was enough to live on, and that worked for him. But sometimes pinching those extra pennies just to be something special for his brother was so, so worth it.

He straightened up and turned to face Enjolras, a leather collar and leash in his hands.

“Down on all fours, puppy,” he crooned.

—-

Enjolras panted. It wasn’t an act, every muscle in his body ached as he struggled to hold himself upright. Grantaire had turned him into a show dog — or at least the kind that jumped over things and did tricks. Grantaire seemed to think that was cute. Enjolras — who self-described as the least athletic person alive — didn’t fucking agree.

The thick leather collar around his neck tightened as Grantaire pulled on the leash, lifting his head.

Enjolras looked up. His arms were shaking.

“Who’s a good puppy?” His brother cooed at him.

Enjolras barked.

Grantaire patted him dotingly on the head. “Does the good boy want a treat?” He asked, keeping the same sickeningly sweet tone.

Enjolras nodded.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

Enjolras quickly corrected himself, and barked again.

“I don’t know if you deserve it after that,”  Grantaire told him. Enjolras’s mouth fell open. It was a struggle not to protest — he wasn’t allowed to speak, but he could feel the disappointed cry on the back of his tongue. Grantaire pursed his lips.

Without being prompted, Enjolras straightened up — he sat back on his heels and pulled his arms in close to his sides with his hands curled over like puppy paws. Keeping his eyes on Grantaire’s face, he pouted.

Grantaire blinked. It took him a moment to register what Enjolras was doing.

But when he did, his face split into the widest grin. “Are you fucking begging?” He asked, eyes bright with laughter.

Enjolras barked loudly.

Grantaire snorted. He reached out again, ruffling Enjolras’s hair. “Alright,” he conceded. “You fucking cute ass mutt.”

Enjolras opened his mouth and started panting again — this time fully aware of what he was doing, and why he was doing it. He didn’t quite get this kink his brother had — putting him in a collar and leash and making him pretend to be a dog. Puppy play, Grantaire had called it. But it made Grantaire happy, and nine times out of ten, that was enough for Enjolras.

Grantaire wrapped the leash’s chain around his hand until he could brush his fingers against Enjolras’s cheek. He gave another tug towards himself — Enjolras tipped forward, and dropped one hand to the floor quickly to steady himself.

There was something so perfect about looking up the length of his brother’s body from his position on the floor. He was eye level with Grantaire’s cock, and close enough to open his mouth and lick him. It made him feel smaller than he was, and he loved that.

Grantaire dug the fingers of his free hand into Enjolras’s hair and gripped him tightly. “Open your mouth, puppy.”

Enjolras’s lips parted obediently.

Grantaire held Enjolras firmly as he pushed his cock into his little brother’s warm, open mouth. “Enjoy your treat,” he murmured, thrusting shallowly.

Enjolras closed his eyes. He would.

He relaxed his jaw and lifted his hand off the floor again. He didn’t touch his brother — he kept his hands curled at his sides, knowing Grantaire would find it too fucking arousing to last more than a few minutes.

Grantaire swore when he noticed, and gave the leash a sharp yank. “You cute piece of—”

What exactly he was a piece of, Grantaire never said. He drowned out the last word with a loud moan, caused entirely by Enjolras tightening his mouth around his brother’s cock and sucking hard.

“Fuck me,” Grantaire murmured, rocking his hips faster.

Enjolras wished he could purr. He was smirking. It was hard to keep his lips as tight around Grantaire as he wanted to because his smile kept pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he pressed his tongue up against the underside of his brother’s cock firmly to compensate.

“Slut,” Grantaire growled, as Enjolras worked him over. “Greedy little slut of a puppy.”

Enjolras breathed the smell of him in and hummed innocently.

Grantaire came without warning him — they preferred it that way. He pushed as far into his little brother’s mouth as Enjolras could take and tilted his own head back as he groaned. Enjolras swallowed around him — Grantaire felt a shockwave of satisfaction course through him.

“Good boy,” he breathed, loosening his grip to pull his fingers through Enjolras’s hair. “Good boy,” he repeated, petting his brother like a dog, even while his cock was still in Enjolras’s mouth.

He laughed as he looked down and said, “If Ma could see you now…”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he was practically grinning again. He swallowed again, and Grantaire slowly pulled back, letting Enjolras lick him clean.

When Enjolras’s mouth was empty, and he felt satisfied, Grantaire unravelled the chain around his hand. He had red marks on his palm where he’d gripped it too tightly. Unsurprising — he liked Enjolras’s blowjobs, which made sense, considering he’d taught the kid everything he knew about them.

Enjolras had opened his eyes and was watching him carefully.

Grantaire sidestepped him and walked towards his bed, expecting Enjolras to follow.

Enjolras did, dropping to all fours again and quickly shuffling along behind him.

“All that exercise,” Grantaire said, sounding pensive. “I think it’s time for a nap.”

Enjolras barked. He was riding the endorphins from getting to suck off his brother, but the high wasn’t going to last. He would have been happy to crawl into bed with him and pass out for a few hours.

Grantaire tied the end of Enjolras’s leash to the end of the bed before hopping over the footboard and sprawling out. Enjolras started to follow, but Grantaire pushed him back with his foot. “Uh uh,” he slurred, his face pressed into a pillow. “Dogs sleep on the floor.”

Enjolras stared at his naked back. Surely he was joking?

He wasn’t. Grantaire yawned and stretched, his eyes already closed. He had nothing else to say. He’d given a command — he expected Enjolras to follow it.

Enjolras sat down, frowning hard.

He strongly suspected that if he made a sound, Grantaire would kick him in the face. (He wasn’t wrong.) And he knew from personal experience that if he touched himself, no matter how badly he thought he needed it, Grantaire would fuck him until he started crying.

It was worth it, sometimes.

He looked at the carpeted floor underneath him with a disgruntled expression. His brother could be a real asshole sometimes — but he sank down anyway, grabbing his discarded jeans to ball them up and use them as a pillow.

As he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but sulkily think to himself: ‘ _Real_  dogs still get fluffy beds.'


End file.
